


Lost in the Brecons

by strengefruit



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strengefruit/pseuds/strengefruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for tw_ficexchange back in the day, where I was requested to write an action/adventure starring Rhys. Which resulted in Rhys + Ianto = BFF hijinx involving teleportation which takes place sometime after 2x09 and sometime before the series went to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in the Brecons

Rhys was getting used to Sundays alone. More often than not he would wake up to find other side of the bed already cold and his wife off somewhere saving the world.

Leaving him to go out and buy the groceries.

The store was already buzzing with Sunday morning shoppers when he got there. Grabbing a basket Rhys joined the crowd, mentally checking items off his list as he went along. He supposed he should be thankful for peaceful days such as these, but somehow buying produce lost its glamour once you had saved the world a few times.

Except as he made his way through the store something out of the corner of his eye told him that perhaps today might not be entirely without excitement.

Across the small shop was a young boy, no more than fourteen years old, stuffing a bag of crisps into his oversized jacket with no regard for the people around him. And in turn, they seemed to be completely oblivious to what he was doing. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Rhys set down the onion he had been examining and slowly moved towards the boy so as not to startle him.

The boy was stuffing another bag into his jacket when Rhys reached him. Before he could even realise what was going on, Rhys shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, pulling the boy’s arm high into the air and sending the crisps flying. That finally got the attention of the other shoppers, who all stopped what they were doing to watch – but none stepped forward to help.

The boy slowly turned to look up at him and, of all things, smiled. Rhys could feel his anger growing at the nerve of it, but before he had a chance to open his mouth to yell at the kid everything went black.

There was no light, no sound, nothing. For a few seconds Rhys floated through utter blackness, completely cut off from all sensation.

‘ _Is this what dying feels like?_ ’ he wondered.

And then landed with a jolt on a bed of grass.

“Bloody hell,” Rhys muttered as his eyes slowly regained their focus. If not for all the madness Torchwood had brought into his life he might have lost it right then and there, but instead he felt strangely calm as he got to his feet and took in his surroundings.

The field stretched out endlessly in all directions, broken up only by the occasional cluster of trees. As far as Rhys could tell he was still in Wales, and – ‘ _oh thank God_ ’ he thought – he could definitely hear the sound of cars off somewhere in the distance.

Which only left one thing to worry about.

Hands trembling, Rhys reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. It took a moment, but two little bars appeared in the top corner of the screen and the unchanged date and time assured him that he was where he was supposed to be. After kissing the screen and professing his undying love for technology he hit the speed-dial for Gwen.

He was greeted by a recording asking him to leave a message. Not quite knowing what to say, he just said it all: “Gwen,” Rhys begged, “Gwen you gotta call me. I don’t know what happened, there was this kid in the grocery store and he did something and now I’m five miles from the middle of bloody nowhere.” Rhys took a breath before continuing, “He must have been an alien or something - God knows what - but please, please call me back!” Somehow talking about it, even to an answering machine, made it seem that much more real. He could feel panic scratching at the edges of his mind.

Hanging up, Rhys took another deep breath and then looked at his surroundings, or lack thereof, and tried to think about what his plan of action should be.

And then he remembered what Gwen had told him not too long after he had found out about Torchwood. “If it’s an _absolute emergency_ you can call this number,” she had said, “he’d be the most helpful, I would think.”

Figuring his current situation counted as an absolute emergency, Rhys scrolled through his address book until he found the right number. After a few rings Rhys nearly jumped for joy when he heard a very real “Hello?”

“Ianto?” he asked tentatively.

“Rhys?” Ianto sounded a bit annoyed, “How the hell did you get this number?”

“Gwen gave it to me for emergencies,” he replied.

That seemed to get Ianto’s attention. “Are you alright?”

Stress and panic finally took over. “I’m in the bloody countryside!” Rhys blurted out, “One minute I was buying vegetables and there was this little shit shoplifting and when I tried to stop him he bloody well teleported me or something to God knows where!”

“So he got you too.”

Ianto’s calm tone settled Rhys instantly. “It’s happened before?”

“You’re the fourth one,” Ianto told him, “and the first one lucky enough to have Torchwood’s direct line.” Rhys thought he could hear him smiling when he said that. “Anyway,” Ianto continued, “I can track you easily enough with what we’ve got here, so all you need to worry about is the sixty-percent chance of rain.”

The clouds did look a bit ominous. “Hurry along then, would you?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Ianto assured him, “but in the mean time, is there a road near to where you are?”

“I heard traffic a moment ago, so it should be close,” Rhys said, glancing again at the nothingness all around. “I think.”

“Alright then,” Ianto said, “I’ll call when I get closer to you.” He hung up, and Rhys stood quietly for a moment, straining to catch the faint sound of traffic. It seemed to be coming from somewhere off to his left, so he slowly started in that direction. There was no reason to rush as he knew it would be a while before rescue.

He had barely taken two steps when a frantic Gwen called him, having heard what had happened from Ianto. Rhys spent a few minutes reassuring her that he was fine, all digits intact, and that as far as he knew there were no aliens, monsters or cannibals in his general vicinity. Gwen then spent a few minutes apologising that she couldn’t be the one to rush to his rescue, and by the time the conversation ended he had already seen a flash of red in the distance that could only be someone’s midlife crisis speeding down the highway.

Even then, it took him a good twenty minutes to finally reach the road. There was a nearby hillside that gave him a decent view and a spot of privacy so Rhys set up camp there and waited. And waited. And swore to himself that as soon as he was back in Cardiff he would buy an iPod and keep it on him at all times in case of accidental-teleportation emergencies.

By the time his phone finally rang he was considering giving hitch-hiking a try, despite knowing that he didn’t have the legs for it. Thankfully, it was Ianto’s name on the display so he stood up quickly as he answered it and started scanning the horizon.

“Ianto?”

“Got you,” was Ianto’s reply and then the other man hung up on him. Within minutes Rhys saw a modest black car pull over and scrambled down the hill towards it. Ianto reached over from the driver’s seat to open the door for him.

“Fancy a ride?”

“Ianto, mate, I could kiss you,” Rhys said as he hopped into the passenger’s seat.

“I don’t know if Gwen would like that,” Ianto smiled, and then waited for Rhys to close the door before getting back on the road.

“So, are you alright then?” Ianto asked, risking a glance at Rhys as he drove.

“Really, I’m fine,” Rhys said, “I just want to know what the hell happened there.”

“We’re just as stumped as you are, really,” Ianto frowned, “Each time the person ends up in the middle of nowhere, and all they can say is a young boy did it.”

“Is he an alien?”

“Could be,” Ianto said, “Or he could’ve just got his hands on some alien tech and figured out how to use it. We won’t know until we catch him.”

“Let me know when you do, would you?” Rhys could think of a few ways he could uncover the boy’s secrets.

“I know Gwen definitely wouldn’t like that,” Ianto laughed.

Sixty minutes and several arguments about rugby later they were finally back in the city. Rhys’ eyes drank in the familiar sights, for only on seeing them did he realise how lucky he was in spite of his little misadventure. Everything looked beautiful to him: the buildings, the rubbish bins, even the kid walking down the street wearing an oversized jacket.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“What is it?” Ianto looked at him curiously.

“It’s him!” Rhys exclaimed, “It’s the little bastard who sent me flying!” He pointed wildly at the boy, who was ducking into a nearby alley.

Ianto slammed on the brakes. “Jack,” he said into his earpiece, “We’ve found our little teleporter.” Ianto listened carefully to whatever Jack was saying. “I understand. I’ll keep my distance,” he replied then quickly left the car, Rhys right on his heels.

Immediately Ianto turned on him. “Get back in the car and wait for me,” he ordered, pointing at the door Rhys had left open in his hurry.

“Like hell I will,” Rhys argued, “I’ve got a score to settle. Besides,” he didn’t blink as he stared the other man down, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped you lot out.”

“I said no,” Ianto said firmly.

But Rhys held his ground. “I’m following you,” he insisted, “and the longer it takes for you to realise it the more likely the kid’s going to get away.”

Ianto sighed, and Rhys knew that he had won.

“Alright,” Ianto said, “Just stay behind me. And _don’t touch the kid_. We’re guessing he sends people through contact so we’d best keep our distance.”

“Gotcha.”

Ianto pulled his gun out from inside his jacket then cautiously headed into the alley with Rhys close behind. The boy hadn’t gone far at all, and was strolling along oblivious to the fact that he was being followed.

“That’s definitely him,” Rhys whispered. Nodding without taking his eyes off the boy, Ianto switched off the safety and aimed.

“Torchwood, stop where you are!” Ianto yelled, surprising even Rhys. The boy stopped walking and slowly turned around to regard them both with curiosity. If not for the risk of being sent back to the middle of nowhere, Rhys would have been right tempted to run up and smack the look right off him.

Ianto took a few slow steps forward. “Hands up where I can see them.”

The boy slowly raised his arms and moved towards them.

“Oi, not so fast there,” Rhys warned from behind Ianto, “We’re onto your little trick.”

Then the boy smiled.

This time Rhys knew that he wasn’t dying, and when he hit ground a soft “oof” off to his left told him that he wasn’t alone. Ianto’s brows were furrowed as he stood up and brushed grass off his suit. “I suppose this means he doesn’t have to touch you to initiate teleportation,” he said bitterly.

“Don’t worry,” Rhys said, already dialling, “I’ve got Jack’s number in here too.”

Perhaps there were worse ways to spend a Sunday.


End file.
